


"Roses are red,/ Violets are blue,/ I deleted the Solar System.../ To make a folder of YOU."

by kierathefangirl



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Secret Admirer, cute fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds a note in fancy script taped to his locker (labeled "Secret Admirer SH"): "Roses are red,/ Violets are blue,/ I deleted the Solar System.../ To make a folder of YOU.". He doesn't know who, but since it's the day before Valentine's Day (it's a Saturday so John is sadly alone) he passes it off as V-day fluff. (especially when Sherlock texts and basically asks him out) But the notes keep coming; passed in class, written somehow on the corner of his notebook. Who is this kid? (It's Sherlock of course XD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secret Admirer (John's POV)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a picture I saw on Google Images with the very first note about deleting the solar system. :')
> 
> Hope you enjoy and comment lots!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very first note taped to his locker in fancy script the day before Valentine's Day. Wondering all day who the kid could be...not such a typical day for John. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but the other chapters will be longer. Just to launch the story, I'm starting here.
> 
> Set from John's POV. Obviously (to the reader) the note is from Sherlock (he doesn't know about the Solar System b/c he 'deleted it' for John, which is cute, in this AU).

“ _Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue,_

_I deleted the Solar System..._

_To make a folder of you._”

I stare at the paper blankly in shock. _Who the hell...? Damn this script is fancy, too. Who writes like that nowadays?_

I pull it carefully off my locker and look on the back. “ _Secret Admirer Sh_ ”

_What? What’s that supposed to mean? Shhh about what? I DON’T UNDERSTAND. Who is this person, do I know them? I probably do. Who the...I could spend all day worrying about this, I need to get to class._

I sigh, the weight of the note in my jacket pocket weighing me down just a little as I finish off the rest of the half-day and head in for lunch. _Maybe they’ll talk to me sometime, I don’t know._

But no one comes, and my friend Molly tells me it’s not a lowercase h it’s capital—initials? But who is _SH_ then?

I wander slowly home, weaving expertly through the crowds and slipping into the run-down flat I share with my mom and sister. _Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow._

I crash on my bed, too exhausted and bewildered to think much more about it.


	2. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John faces another lonely Valentine's Day until his secret admirer finally asks him out to a little French restaurant. They meet at last (for John it's been ages, since he went almost an entire school day and half a day before meeting the kid). Sherlock is all awkward and unsure and John is flustered. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter texting! Aligned left with the time above=Sherlock; aligned center with the time in parentheses=John.
> 
> Set from John's POV. Semi-short but packed with texts and info and stuff so... :D

Luckily Valentine’s Day falls on a Saturday this year. Certainly don’t want to continue through a regular school day wondering the entire time who might’ve sent that note.

As usual, I spend another day alone eating popcorn—until my phone dings with a text.

**_2:34PM –_ **

**_Hey, it’s SH. You know a place called Le Pain Quotidien? It’s a French shop (not just bread as the name says)._ **

I breathe a sigh of relief. _Finally! I don’t even care how they got my number._

**_(2:34PM)_ **

**_Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Why?_ **

I wait while he or she types, turning off the TV.

**_2:35PM –_ **

**_You been there? It’s a pretty nice place._ **

**_(2:35PM)_ **

**_...Are you asking me out?_ **

I rub my eyes and wait excitedly as they type back.

**_2:36PM –_ **

**_Maybe I am. Shut up. I’m still new at all this. Look, I’m in one of your classes. I’m...observant, to say the least, and I know you’re bi—not homo, not hetero. I’ve seen you looking—not that that’s a bad thing. I’ve done that before. My name is Sherlock Holmes (hence SH)._ **

I feel heat flood my cheeks. _I don’t look, shut up. Well, maybe I do. Shit._

**_(2:36PM)_ **

**_Who said I was laughing? And you’re right, though I’ve never told anyone. So you wanna meet there? At the French place?_ **

**_2:37PM –_ **

**_That’s the idea, yes. If you don’t mind._ **

**_(2:37PM)_ **

**_Not at all. Not like I’m doing anything anyway, just...sitting around watching telly. I could certainly eat._ **

**_2:37PM –_ **

**_Meet at the door?_ **

**_(2:38PM)_ **

**_Soon as I get there, yeah. Do you even know my name?_ **

**_2:38PM –_ **

**_...I said I’m observant. The teacher calls on you in class, Doctor John Watson._ **

**_(2:39PM)_ **

**_Just call me John. :)_ ** **_It okay if I call you Sherlock?_ **

**_2:39PM –_ **

**_Of course. See you in...five?_ **

**_(2:39PM)_ **

**_Yeah. It’s not too far but I have to leave a note so my mom doesn’t panic on me._ **

**_2:40PM –_ **

**_Understandable._ **

I pick myself up off the couch to scrawl out a quick note to my mom and sister: “ _Went out to meet my ‘secret admirer’ at last! I might be back for dinner, wanna get to know the kid._ ”

I pin it to the fridge and pull on my nicest jacket, heading out to walk down to the little shop-restaurant. I can’t keep my feet from bouncing a little in excitement as I move. _At last, I can meet him!_


	3. Hope Beyond Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock officially meet and become friends; of course John makes it all formal and Sherlock's like "I don't think this is the normal way friendship happens but okay". XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is definitely longer than the previous two.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff and comment lots!

There’s a couple minutes silence before John texts again.

**_(2:43PM)_ **

**_On my way. Not like I was doing much anyway._ **

I feel a little of my tension ease. _He doesn’t think I’m weird like everyone else? Yet, anyway. I don’t know, most people don’t when I first talk to them._

I shove my hands in my pockets, ducking my head and waiting patiently. A tiny spark of hope glimmers someplace dark within me, lighting up my heart and soul. _Maybe this time will be different. Just maybe._

“Sherlock, right?”

I look up to find soft brown eyes hovering on the other side of the door from me, curious and alight as always. _John._

I fidget and lift my gaze, my hair falling back out of my face. “Yeah, hi.”

John holds out his hand, an offering of peace. _For now._

I accept it, sliding my hand into his and letting him time the hold before pulling apart.

I jerk my head towards the door. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

I wait as a tide of customers sweep out before pulling the door open, nodding him in. He slips past me, just barely touching me as he passes. I shiver a little before slipping in after him. _This is bound to be an interesting evening, for sure._

John settles down easily at one of the tables and I slide in opposite him, sliding my coat onto the back of the chair.

John gasps quietly and averts his gaze for a second, sneaking a curious glance at me and looking me up and down with a different, more interested light in his eyes. I chose to wear my skinny jeans and a tight black t-shirt, apparently to my advantage. John is caught off guard after seeing me in tuxedos daily for months now.

A small smile tugs on my lips and I raise a hand to catch the waitress’ attention. I mouth, “Menu, please?”

She nods and carries two over, setting them down in front of each of us and going back to wandering through the crowds and waiting for the next order to be done.

John’s eyes dart down to the menu and, hands shaking, he picks it up and ducks behind it in an attempt to hide the cherry-red blush working its way from his cheeks to his ears. _Okay, more than off guard. Your hands don’t shake like that after someone removing their coat unless you’re turned on to some degree._

I order my usual guacamole toast and John orders Belgian waffles, much to my amusement.

Finally John looks up and sees my small smile, asking, “What?”

I shrug. “Nothing. Just...I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

John chuckles. “My mom instilled it in me by the time I was seven that sweets of any kind were delicious since that’s what she thought. She has sugary things whenever she could fit it in—dessert, snack, a shut-up-here’s-a-cookie kind of thing. She got my sister and I to be quiet a lot just by shoving chocolate-chocolate chip cookies in our mouths. Certainly worked.”

I drop my gaze to my hands for a second before glancing back up at him. “Sister?”

John grins. “Oh, yeah. My sister Harriet, she’s younger than me. Goes by Harry all the time cause she’s a Harry Potter fan. She’s just recently come out as homo and mom was totally cool with it. Baked her a pie to celebrate her new girlfriend, Clara.”

I tilt my head just a little. _Seems like he knows. But he hasn’t come out, either._ “You haven’t come out yet, not even to your all-accepting mother...have you?”

John blushes scarlet. “Yeah. I’m an open book to you, aren’t I?”

I shake my head. “No. Some things are just painted on your face or in your eyes. You’re one of the few who isn’t an open book to me. Which is also why you’re so interesting; I can only get little snippets from observing things with my eyes, whereas with most it’s all in the body language, their tone of voice, their eyes and expression.”

John blinks, tilting his head curiously. “I can’t read anything off of you.”

A small smile tugs at my mouth. “That’s because I’ve learned how to block that physical response out, for most things. My older brother Mycroft can read me like an open book but no one else can.”

“You’re the younger sibling?”

I shrug casually. “What of it?”

John grins. “I’m the oldest. So why have you never brought him up before?”

I wince. “Because he practically _is_ the British government, and I don’t...well, we don’t get along very well.”

John smirks. “Sibling rivalry, interesting.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s more than just rivalry. He’s the only person I ever came out to, and he just stopped talking to me, always said he was too busy being the British government to deal with me. By the time he did have time, I was too far gone; he couldn’t fix what he’d done.”

“Which is why you’re so introverted, then,” John ventures.

I nod mutely. _Why is he so easy to talk to?_

John chuckles. “I s’pose it makes sense. So why me, then, of all people?”

I study his body language, coming to a surprising conclusion; he lacks a sense of self-worth. Interesting, certainly.

I let a small emotion slip through the mask: curiosity. “Why not? You’re similar to me in some ways, not in others—mother and a sister, whereas I have a father and a brother—and you’re one of the few I can’t read easily. I like being challenged, it keeps my brain occupied.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Father and a brother? What about your mom?”

_He’s prying,_ I briefly register before my mouth drops open. John flushes and glances away. “What?”

I close my mouth, chewing on my lip. “No one’s ever...asked about that. Ever.”

John’s gaze returns to me. “Why not?”

I consider it honestly. “Probably because no one ever talks to me before they’re already judging.”

“Over what?”

I drop my gaze, lowering my voice. “Being...not hetero.”

John’s eyes widen. “ _Oh._ Okay. That’s, um, why I’ve never said anything. People just think it’s wrong.”

I flick my eyes up, looking through my eyelashes. “I know. More than anyone.”

John winces. “Okay, so...is your mom.....divorced?”

I shake my head, dropping the quiet word like a bomb going off. “Dead.”

There’s a ringing silence following the word before the chatter volume rises up again, and John’s wide eyes betray his shock before he asks, “How?”

I swallow hard, biting my tongue. “Thyroid cancer. Took my little sister, too.”

John’s eyes widen further. “I can’t even imagine what that must feel like; just....wow.”

I shrug uneasily. “Redbeard helped with my mom, but my dad put him down before my sister. That was tough.”

John’s brow furrows. “Redbeard?”

I close my eyes. “An Irish Setter. My dog. One of the few things that kept me grounded, kept me from having panic attacks. And it’s not like Dad even asked or anything, even _cared_. As if he ever did.”

John tilts his head and the waitress returns, sliding the plates onto the table. “Enjoy.”

I look up and give her a nod of thanks, which she returns before sweeping off through the crowd.

John continues as if she was never there. “What do you mean?”

I swallow my bite of food. “I, um...well, he _found out_ on his own and he was furious. Yelled and threw things. Mycroft just barely managed to calm him down but instead of consoling me or anything he just sent me to my room, like _I_ did something wrong. They were yelling for hours after that.”

John swallows his bite of food, his eyes closing for a moment while he licks the powdered sugar off his lips. “That’s terrible.”

“I was _six_ ,” I mutter, sliding another bite of food in.

“That’s even worse,” John exclaims under his breath.

I shrug. “That’s my life.”

John shoves a bite into his mouth, clearly hoping I’ll elaborate.

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, running a hand over my rebellious, dark curly hair. “Every couple years he’s tried to convince me not to be as I am, like it’s some lifestyle choice—like getting a tattoo or something. _You_ realize it’s not, you’ve been through that. Just a couple days ago was his last failed attempt. He’s getting desperate, to the point of throwing things _at me_ rather than just blindly.”

John reaches a tentative hand across the table to lay it over mine, sympathy and worry playing on his features. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” I reply honestly. _Where’s all this honesty coming from, what the hell?_

John squeezes my hand, then withdraws his back to his side of the table. “So have I.”

I tilt my head. “What’s weighing you down?”

John chuckles. “Perceptive. My, um, my dad.”

I study his body language. He stiffens a little at the mention of it, guilt dragging his shoulders down and shyness dragging his gaze down. “He died in a car accident not too long ago.”

“And you feel responsible, whether or not it was actually your fault,” I finish. “I know guilt when I see it.”

John smiles weakly. “Yeah. I was driving, it was my sixteenth birthday present.”

I feel a wash of sympathy, which is abnormal. “Be more careful next time.”

John’s eyes widen. “I’m not driving again.”

“You have to face your fears or they’ll never let you live your life,” I counter. “I would know.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Who says I have to?”

“The universe. Me. Your family, probably. Your therapist.”

“How the hell do you know I have a—”

I raise a hand, cutting him off. “You have a psychosomatic limp and a shoulder that’s not healing because _it_ is partially psychosomatic. Of course you have a therapist.”

John blushes scarlet. “How did you...?”

“Pure observation, John, it’s what I do.” I shrug. “It’s what makes me valuable to the police, which my dad of course disapproves of. Wants me to be an engineer with a wife and kids, like him.”

I set my fork down, finished. John swallows his last bite and follows suit—the waitress comes to collect and I hand her a full payment plus a generous tip, and she disappears.

John shakes his head. “Your dad can’t rule your life.”

“I know. But since Mycroft’s the government, the so-called ‘responsibility to my family’ falls on me. Not that it’s possible for me to fulfill it even if I was hetero.”

John rises to his feet. “Walk?”

I slip my coat on and rise with him, following him out the door. He wanders towards an empty road in silence, stopping at the intersection and pointing out a bent stop sign. “That’s where we— _I_ —crashed.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And?”

John glances at me. “And what?”

I shrug. “You notice something about it? Something different?”

John studies it. “It’s repainted, I suppose. Why?”

“It’s not as bent,” I correct. “Yes, it’s repainted, but they repaired it and then another person crashed into it, as is often in this intersection. I read all about it in the newspaper, it was over the news. I think you were described as an ‘injured, traumatized teen’ in the article. Doesn’t do you near enough credit. Describes you as average. I know average intelligence when I see it, since I’m far above average. Normal people are, as my brother describes them, _goldfish_ compared to us. But you’re not.”

John looks up in surprise. “Huh?”

I glance around for something else out of place. “Okay, you see that person over there with the ‘homeless veteran, please help, God bless’ sign?”

John nods, glancing at him. “Yeah, and?”

I study him, taking everything in. “I can read _him_ like an open book. He _is_ a veteran, but he’s not homeless. He gives the money to his grandkids, who do happen to be homeless. The ‘God bless’ is just to attract the attention of religious people. You, on the other hand...”

I glance at John. “Your career path is set towards becoming a doctor, hence Doctor Watson sewn onto your jacket. You’re weighed down by guilt and a tinge of fear, just by looking at you. But that’s _it_. That’s all I can read. You’re not an open book, you’re a book that’s cracked open for glimpses at fractions of the history within but the kind of book it would take far too much time to try and crack just by observation. A _locked_ book. And you noticed the sign’s been repainted, which most people wouldn’t pick up on. You’re abnormal, in a good way. It’s rare to find that. My brother _still_ hasn’t succeeded and he’s able to spy on people with cameras any time he likes. I just look and observe, he flat-out _spies_.”

John blinks, glancing at the lettering on his jacket. “That was Harry and my mom.”

I smile faintly. “Guessed as much, which means they know of your career path as well.”

John doesn’t look totally vulnerable and repulsed as normal people do when I read them as I am. He looks more intrigued than anything, perhaps a little vulnerable. “Yeah, they do.”

After a silent pause, John asks shyly, “Are you bullied at school?”

I blink, glancing at him in surprise. _You could call it that, yes._ “I suppose you could call it that, yes. More harassed and annoyed than actually hurt by anything, since Anderson is too stupid to genuinely insult me. Why?”

“Just figured you would be, if you’re like that at school. Just reading people and exposing all their secrets, you know. And claiming to be more intelligent. You are, but it’s mostly because you’re more observant than most.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m always _like that_. That’s just who I am, not that anyone ever accepts it. They always say ‘piss off’ and run the other way.”

John smiles faintly. “I don’t judge like that. I’ve been through too much to overlook someone else going through the same thing. Do you have _any_ friends?”

I shrug. “Molly Hooper’s smitten with me, which is a shame; I’d be interested if I were hetero. Mike Stamford makes an effort to be nice to me, but I wouldn’t count them as friends, either. They could be if they made more of an effort, maybe, but they’re not now.”

“So I’d be the first?” John suggests lightly, his gaze rising to my face again. “First friend?”

My mouth opens for a second and I blink in surprise. _Is he actually suggesting he’s my friend? Well, I suppose he does know more about me than anyone, but..._ “You would be, yeah.”

John offers a hand. “Friends?”

_I’m not sure how that usually works, but why not?_ I accept his hand, nodding. “Friends.”

_I have a friend? I have a friend! Well then. That was unexpected._

John smiles faintly. “I’m usually alone on Valentine’s Day. It’s weird to be out making friends.”

I chuckle. “I’m _always_ alone, no matter what day it is.”

John frowns for a second, noting that. “Christmas, your birthday?”

“Don’t celebrate birthdays, and Christmas is always a nightmare. I end up on the street for a couple days to avoid my dad. He’s always giving me books on how to be hetero and stuff and I just can’t. The only good thing I got was a pocket watch from Mycroft that used to be our sister’s, and our mother’s before that.”

John flat-out frowns this time. “Well, that’s gonna change. And you can come to my house if you end up on the streets. Follow me, I’ll show you where it is.”

I trail slowly after him, processing what just happened. So much happened in a short time; I have a friend, he doesn’t hate me, and we’re going to his house. Weird day, indeed.


End file.
